


What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted?

by Lehuka



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, BUT IT'S A LIE :O, Blood and Injury, Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, F/M, Physical Abuse, Post-Thor (2011), Pre-Avengers (2012), Reader-Insert, Unhappy Ending, Verbal Abuse, he slaps her so..., tortured loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehuka/pseuds/Lehuka
Summary: You had thought your relationship with Loki was the main story, the tale of two lovers, a romance. It was merely a preface, and that you now know.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [head_over_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/head_over_heart/gifts).



> For @head-over-heart's 100 Follower Challenge on Tumblr!

**2009**

You first met him by accident. You were just wandering about the bookstore: you had gone for a particular book, which you found, and were now letting yourself be caught within the pamphlets for vacations in Hawaii and test prep books. You let your hands brush some of them idly: the smell of paper is something familiar. Calming. 

You step back for a moment, only to bump into a tall man. Hastily turning about-face, you nearly trip over the apology in your mouth at the sight of him. 

Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t begin to cover it. He looked like he belonged in the Romance section, not squashed between ACT Test Prep and AP Chemistry. 

“Oh my goodness, I am  _ so  _ sorry,” you squeak. He blinks at you slowly.  _ Encapturing _ , you think to yourself, as his eyes turn from an icy blue to a green only seen on fresh grass. 

“It is no problem at all, my dear,” he says with a small wisp of a smile. You have to hold yourself back from gaping at his voice, all velvet and red wine. You begin to take little steps outside of the aisle. Being within the scope of this guy is making your heart race way too fast for your liking. You’ve made it a few feet when a large elegant hand lands on your shoulder. Tensing immediately, you turn to see who did such a gesture. 

“Apologies, dear, but would you mind helping me out for a moment? You seem acquainted with this establishment,” he asks, a teasing tone to his honeyed voice.

“Oh yes, totally,” you yelp, sounding nothing if not vastly peasant-like comparatively to him, “Could you maybe- take your hand off my shoulder first?” The mystery man removes his hand with leisure, holding on a moment longer than necessary before removing it completely. 

“Of course,” he murmurs. 

“Alrighty then, what are you looking for?” you smile at him bashfully, unable to meet his eyes. 

“World history, if you would,” 

“That’s sorta… a wide topic. Like, maps or something?” you clarify. He shakes his head. 

“No, the entire history of the world. From the start of mankind to now,” he ensures. You stare for a moment: the history of the entire world. Something that kids learn for years.  _ Yeah sure, that’s totally easy to do _ . 

“You mean… just America, right? Ha…” you start to laugh but take in his stony expression.  _ No, he’s completely serious.  _ Where has this guy been that he needs to know everything about the  _ world?  _ “Alright then. I guess I could show you to the World History section,” you accept. He smiles appreciatively. 

“Yes, that would be satisfactory. Thank you.” 

“Oh… it’s no problem. I wasn’t doing anything anyway,” you chuckle, leading him through the rows upon rows of books and weaving through the different sections. This mystery man’s gait is smooth and soundless. You finally reach the section, feeling as though you should bow before moving to leave. 

“Whelp, this is it. It’s really funny that you want to learn  _ everything _ \- I went through a phase like this- well not a phase, I’m an out of work history teacher now, you see that’s why this is so amusing to me. You probably don’t want to hear this, heh- I’ll be going then,” you turn around. 

“Wait-” he tugs on your arm lightly.  _ Goosebumps,  _ you think as you shiver. “How about… you show me how to do this? Be my tutor, if you would. I’d like to learn. Please, my dear,” he asks so politely, so carefully. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name-” 

“It’s Loki. Now, please. I will compensate you for your time. Please,” his eyes are wide and pleading, and you can’t bring yourself to say no. Even though you should. Even though he seems somewhat dangerous, with how his eyes swirl with unknowable emotion. Even though you just learned his goddamn oddball name. 

“Alright then, Loki. I’ll help you pick some books out. And then we’ll see,” you adhere, already knowing full well you’re giving in too easily. Loki listens intently as you explain how many books there are, how many world events have occurred. You end up talking with him, even  _ laughing  _ slightly at his clever words. Conversation with Loki is like playing backgammon: skill, and luck, and fun in an intellectually teasing way. He’s suave and charming, and so powerfully endearing. You make him laugh just once, talking about common legends of zombies and vampires. He laughs in disbelief, in mockery of humanity: but it’s a noise unlike anything you’ve heard. It rolls over your skin like a wave. 

When you go to buy your books, you go to the register together. Your one book: and the five textbooks he’s holding. Utop of the intellect, utop of the beautiful, utop of the elegance: he’s  _ strong _ . Loki carefully places his books on the checkout desk, and the cashier starts scanning them. 

“And what choice of payment will you be using today?” the cashier asks calmly, offering a polite smile.

“Payment?” 

“Yes. Credit, debit, or cash?” they repeat. Loki’s expression flutters, and you glimpse something beneath his easy face. Something that to be honest, makes you think that you were right to call him dangerous. You tentatively place you hand over his. Instantly, you nearly jerk your hand away: his body is so cold, it’s what you’d imagine a cadaver would feel like. But, insistent on comforting him, you stubbornly keep your hand on his. He breathes in a sharp breath, and his other hand fists by his side. 

“Hey, I got it. Here’s my card: can you put my book on it too?” you smile gratefully at the cashier, who rings it up with shaking hands. Loki untenses as he watches. 

“Did you forget your wallet at home or something, Loki?” you ask curiously. His eyes glance at you and then look away again. 

“Yes. Yes, I did. This is very peculiar for me. Apologies,” 

You chuckle. 

“It’s fine, it’s only…  _ oh my god,  _ 230? That’s criminal!” you gasp. The cashier shrugs. 

“Textbooks go for a lot these days, education is expensive,” they merely say, before handing your card back. 

You’re trembling by the time the card is returned to your wallet.  _ I’ll be broke. Late on rent, at the very least. I’ll have to skip meals to keep my apartment, and even then… that’s no measly sum.  _

Loki takes the books from the cashier and leads you out of the store. Once outside, he takes your book out of the bag and hands it to you. 

“Much appreciated, my dear. Would you like to help me sort through this hefty amount of information?” he asks. You frown at him.  _ He’s still asking about that?  _

“I’ll pay you handsomely. It will more than make up the price of these textbooks.” 

“Oh?” The edge of Loki’s mouth pulls up in a half-smile. 

“Of course. The least I could do.” 

~~~~~

To say you were smitten with Loki after only two months of teaching him would be an understatement. You’ve been going to his immense apartment every three days since the day at the bookstore for ninety minutes at a time. 

There’s something about him that’s made you memorize his mannerisms and phrases. When he’s exasperated, he likes to shout “By the Norns!”. When he’s reading, everything is still with the exception of his fingers that tap his thigh or sneak over to your knee and rub circles around it. 

He’s smart as all hell. You rarely have to review anything anymore: he can take in the new information so quickly. And he immerses himself in the knowledge he acquires. You can tell that Loki adores it, adores the learning aspect. It’s childlike, almost, and so painfully endearing at this point that your heart pangs at his excitement. 

And he always goes out of his way to be kind. You can tell that he’s holding back everything. It’s in his eyes, you’ve noticed: they start as an icy blue when you come in, but warm into emerald after you say hello. If that’s not romantic… you don’t know what is. 

Every inch of your body flutters when Loki looks at you. It’s embarrassing, and you blush, and he teases you about it. You bite your lip and look up at his apartment building: you’re ten minutes early to his apartment. Should you just wait in the lobby? Humming tunelessly, you stroll into the huge high-ceilinged building. It’s frigid in the room, juxtaposing the easy sun outside. You shiver slightly and take a seat in one of the black chairs decorating the lobby to wait. Tapping your foot, look at your phone… it’s all fine until a harsh hand lands on your shoulder. 

“Wow, I can’t believe I’d ever find  _ you  _ in a place like this!” a harsh bark laughs. You glance over your shoulder: it’s a past ex-boyfriend of yours. You didn’t know that they lived in the building. He smiles cruelly, knowingly. 

“Why not?” you huff, closing yourself off from his overbearing presence. 

“Because people with  _ money _ go here. People who can afford things! That’s not you, bitch. You had to leech off my money the whole goddamn time we were together. You remember that?” 

“I just… you said that-” 

“Yeah, you do,” he brushes a lock of hair back, to which you hiss a hushed “Don’t touch me”. He merely chuckles. “God, such a golddigger.”  _ You said what’s mine is yours, you said if I needed anything I could just ask and you’d help, I didn’t know-  _ “Paying me back with that second rate body like a fucking slut.” 

You shake and glare at him abrasively, but say nothing for fear of what he’d retaliate with.  _ It wasn’t paying you back it was a fucking relationship-  _

“Bet you haven’t been seeing anyone else. No one else wants to take on that kind of fucking luggage, huh? God, you’re useless. And I heard you lost your job? Wow,  _ no one  _ can stand you. Could’ve told ya that,” he snorts. You’re shaking now. You convince yourself you won’t give him the pleasure of making you cry, so instead, you’re looking at the asshole angrily. 

“You shut up. I have a new job now, I’m tutoring-” 

“Haha- tutoring? No wonder. Then they don’t have to see you every day! Wow, that’s smart. Because they’ll be able to cancel on you at any time. Truly a good thing. God, I wish I could’ve done that with you. So fucking clingy,” he’s smirking, and you want to cry, and then he’s being pulled back aggressively. 

Loki growls at the man, who suddenly seems quite small and meek comparatively. 

“Get out of here,” he snarls at the man, who trembles at his sharp words. 

“B-but I live h-here-” 

“Go out then,” Loki’s voice does not waver for a moment. It is strong and dangerous and protective and the man who had been spitting such vileness runs with his tail between his legs. Loki watches him go steely before helping you from your seat. His arm holds your waist tightly, restricting your movements as he all but drags you to the elevator. 

“Who in Hel was that bastard?” Loki asks you with no lack of malice: his tone is seething and his eyes swirl icicle. 

“Just an ex-boyfriend of mine,” you whisper, still trying to reign in the tears. Loki is muttering things under his breath, the words rising and falling in inflection but indistinguishable from one another. Loki’s arm never leaves your torso. You make it all the way upstairs, all the way to Loki’s beautiful apartment. He’s still muttering to himself, his body tense when you excuse yourself to the bathroom near silently. 

You close the door, listening for the quiet click of the lock, before breaking down and crying. How mortifying. Loki had to come down and pick you up like a lost kitten, how  _ useless  _ you must seem to him now. You’re sure that Loki hadn’t thought you some poor wretch but now he  _ should.  _ You mourn the loss of Loki, the loss of this relationship that you were already attached to. There’s a harsh knock on the door. 

“S-sorry, just give me a minute, I’ll be out in a moment-” you sniffle, trying very hard to make it seem like you're not crying in his fancy bathroom. The knocking continues, and then suddenly halts. You breathe in. And breathe out, and then the door is knocked off its hinges. 

You whirl around to face the intruder: Loki, leg extended, looking murderous. His eyes soften as you squint at him through the tears. It’s slow and seemingly something that Loki is not used to when he bends to your level on the ground and wraps his arms around you hesitantly. You lean on him, letting him take you in his arms completely. 

“Oh, my dear…  you’re trembling. Please don’t cry ,” he murmurs, face landing in your hair, “Don’t cry, my dear.” 

You sniffle, “I’m not crying.” 

“Don’t lie to me, sweet,” he says: part of you thinks it was supposed to be a joke, but he says it with such dark connotations that you don’t dare laugh. You just nestle in close to his cold body, feeling hot yourself. 

“He’ll never bother you again. I’ll make sure of it. Shh, I’ve got you now,” Loki says, and his lips move down to your temple and press in sweetly. You gasp and nearly fall out of his arms. Loki catches you before it can happen, and stands up fluidly. You’re still in his arms, and not the lightest person: clearly, his strength is immense. He knocks down a door and holds you like it’s nothing. He looks at you sharply, daring you to speak. 

“Why…?” you ask slowly, mouth feeling dry as his eyes bore into you. 

“Why not, my dear? You’re beautiful,” he whispers, letting his breath dance over your ear. You shiver, and he takes it as an invitation to press a kiss onto the shell of your ear. “You’re so very smart… you’d think you’d notice by now how much I  _ want  _ you… I’d like to keep you,” 

“Loki, why are you-” 

“Shh,” he instructs, his eyes green and warm now, “I know you want me, my dear. I know it,”

You’re so embarrassed. Were you that obvious? Ugh. You place a hand on his muscular arm, pressing it to signal that you’d like to leave.

“No no, my dear. Please don’t go, stay with me… I’ll take such good care of you,” he says softly, pulling in close. “Don’t you know me by now? I’d never hurt you. Never forsake you.” 

“Loki, I’m s-supposed to be your  _ tutor _ , for god sakes, I-I  _ can’t _ -” you stutter, blushing profusely.  _ He’s so fast, he’s moving so fast all of a sudden, why-  _

“Then quit. Norns, woman… it’s not so  _ hard _ ,” he growls, his grip tightening around you. You yelp a little in surprise. His arms loosen immediately and he sets you on the ground with a guilty expression. “Apologies,” he says hoarsely. You laugh awkwardly and take a step back. 

You avoid Loki’s gaze and rather watch his hands. Because you know, you  _ know _ , if you look at him you’ll be swallowed up and the next thing you know you’re in his heinously comfortable embrace. Loki’s hands quiver at his sides for a moment and then they hesitantly rise. You watch carefully as they move upwards until they’re cupping your face. You’re unaware until it happens that you’re staring right into his eyes. 

Green. Green as forests that you’ve only seen in pictures, green like dancing leaves in summer, green like liquid emeralds. 

“My dear… please don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. Please. I’m desperate,” he murmurs: you can bring yourself to look away from those mesmerizing eyes. He’s gorgeous, he’s so pretty- 

“Alright,” you whisper, then louder, “Alright. I can’t bring myself to say no to you,” you smile. Loki breathes a deep breath of relief before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. He barely checks if you truly want this before pressing your lips together. He dominates completely, pulling you close and pressing in more all at once. It’s intense and demanding and you  _ melt.  _ You’re melting into him, and he’s so very cold as he pulls you up into his arms and carries you away. 

~~~~~

Swept away. That’s how things felt. You were no longer in your own life, you existed solely in Loki’s. You lost yourself over and over in his arms, in his kisses. He told you he loved you. No, he  _ tells  _ you he loves you. 

You said it first, of course: “I love you,” over a cup of hot coffee. Loki looked at you with raised brows: “I love you too, of course.” It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, effortlessly. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and then asked to continue the lessons. 

It’s magic. It’s magic that has lasted for nearly a year now. So much so that you’re head over heels with what you used to think could be nothing but fantasy. 

You live in his apartment now, for the most part: he’s never been to your own drab place but pays for it anyway while he keeps you. Loki pays for your food, eats your meals beside you. He accompanies you everywhere you wish to go. He hangs on every word you say, every memory you impart with a bemused calmness. He lets you rest on his side, snuggling in, and watch all sorts of movies. And you’re still telling him every piece of knowledge you know about the world. 

Loki’s odd sometimes. He doesn’t understand the simplest things: the grocery store still eludes him, and it took him ages to discover that phones have larger capabilities than just texting and calling. Loki gets upset about it… when the television doesn’t work, when his delivery is late, when you can’t explain why a thing is doing something. He’ll spit foreign curses and sometimes, though it’s rare, things break. Loki apologizes instantly after: buys you a better, more expensive item to replace it. Make-up kisses and snuggles. He holds you tightly, close to his chest, so near that you can’t even move. 

You think- no, you know that Loki’s not of this world. He’s an alien, or a vampire, or something. He won’t tell you which, rather chuckles at your attempts to deduce his origin. There was one point where he pulled a scepter from midair: you gawked.  “Magic,” you whispered, “You have magic.” 

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he had said lightly, teasingly. He held his scepter with a practiced grace: you watched enraptured as the gem suspended on it glows an alluring sapphire. You looked to Loki, shocked. 

What you saw in his eyes made you want to look away again. The stunning blue, matching that of the scepter… how his eyes bored into the gem obsessively, how his mouth was forming words and sentences near silently. It was a movement you know all too well: it’s the one he likes to do in the early morning. Whispers of sweet words, promises, and adorations. It had been uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable.

“Loki,” you had started, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. And he had nearly swatted your hand away, his mouth pulling animalistically before he caught himself and apologized. Apologized profusely, at the sight of your eyes tearing up. Magicked the scepter away alongside his ice eyes and held you, murmuring lovely nothings. It’s in the past now, anyway. 

Except for select parts. Select parts that relapse again and again. As time passes, Loki… changes. He’s angrier. Vengeful, with eyes of winter. He’ll be fine one moment, and the next he’s spitting vile at something or other. Occasionally it’s you. And you try to take the brunt of it, knowing full well that he doesn’t  _ mean  _ it, he loves you… and he comes to his senses after a moment anyway, assuring you that it was just a spell. And you kiss. 

It’s a relationship, though you haven’t put any labels on it. You’re glad for that… because if you were still his tutor, yesterday would’ve been the last session. There is no more to learn. No more to teach. You can’t help but smile to yourself: now it’s just you and Loki, nothing providing a reason for the relationship to be anything short of dating. 

Today is normal. Well, the new normal. You wake up to a cold bed: you can never tell how long he had been out of the sheets. He was always cold in them, cold outside them. 

“Loki?” you grumble, feeling around the sheets. Nothing. He’s up already. Groaning, you stretch your body as you exit the bed. Sore, as per usual, after Loki has his way. You stumble out to the kitchen where Loki has his hands pressed into the counter and his back away from you. Smiling silently, you pad over to his back and embrace him. 

“Loki- we’re all done! No more lessons, just me and you,” you sing-song cheerfully, sunshine and love, and- he backhands you suddenly with his left hand, with such force that your face slaps to the side and forces you to the floor. Tears spring to your eyes: from the pain yes, but also the betrayal. He  _ hit you _ . Square across the face. Loki snarls above you, standing over your body intimidatingly. If you hadn’t been intimate with this man, you would’ve thought he was a demon with eyes of the frozen sea. 

“Useless bitch! Wretch, you dare lay your hands on me? You are but a toy, a harlot- you do what  _ I  _ tell you and nothing more. You must be truly naive to think that you are anything above that. Now, bow to your king, beg for forgiveness,” he demands. You’re terrified, clutching onto your quickly reddening face and staring at him. “ _ Kneel!”  _ he yells. 

“L-Loki, I don’t understand- why would you- why would you hit me?” you stammer as tears start to fall. 

“You truly, hah, you’re truly a fool. Idiotic mewling quim,” he bends down to your level and with the same hand as before, slaps you the other way. “No one will  _ ever  _ love you. I used you, and now you have no use to me. So either submit and I’ll  _ find  _ a reason for you, something that fits your status… not a consort for a king, no, perhaps just a holding place until I find someone better... so, wench,” he grabs onto your stinging and bruised jaw with that ethereal strength, “Submit to your savior or get out of my sight. You are not worthy. Of my time. My presence. My being. You are  _ nothing. _ ” 

He laughs maliciously as you cry and struggle to get up from your sprawled position on the floor. 

“ You’re trembling, ” he notes aloud, sneering. You make a strangled noise: had once remarked the same thing, but with such kindness and caring and with a hug to boot. And now… and now, he steps on your face with light pressure, enough to make it hurt. “Stop it, and answer me.” You’re crying heavily now, sobs ripping themselves out of your chest, and it takes the last of your strength to punch the inside of his knee on the leg that’s holding you down. 

Loki grunts and stumbles back, and you race away to the bedroom before he can regain his bearings. You lock the door with quivering fingers and slide down it before devolving into tears completely. 

_ I thought we were okay. I thought this was it.  _

You’re sitting there, shaking, as you hear Loki’s feet stomp their way to the door. Your phone is charging fruitlessly in the living room: there’s no landline in the bedroom either. The penthouse that Loki’s in is way too far up to escape by a window if you want to survive the fall. Truly, hiding in the bedroom was  _ not  _ one of your wisest choices. You hear his footsteps, pounding the floorboards approach… until they falter before the only thing barring his entry into the bedroom. You crawl to the door of the closet: maybe if you’re quiet, you can hide there without a hitch. And he’ll be back in his right mind. 

Bits and pieces of mutterings make it through the two closed doors: things like “no, stop”, “insolent”, “disobey”, “fine”, “go”, “stay”, “carry out”, “die”, “how could you”. The door slams: then his footsteps sound, quieter as he goes away. You breathe a sigh of relief, the breath coming out staggered, and lean against the side of the closet before crying a little more and gingerly touching your swelling cheeks. 

_ How did I get here?  _

~~~~~

When you finally exit the bedroom, a good hour after the event, you’ve decided to forgive him already. You  _ know  _ it’s bad, and you  _ know _ you shouldn’t but… you love him. And that’s bad, he’s bad but… perhaps you’re making him better? You are, you’re sure of it. 

Tiptoeing out of the room, you hear the tell-tale sound of water running. You peek first from the corner of the hall. Loki’s simply at the sink, washing something or other. He seems peaceful. Docile. There’s a rhythmic “scritch scritch scritch” as Loki cleans. You grab your phone from its charging spot, just in case, before striding up to Loki’s straight-backed figure. You clear your throat when you stand behind him. Surprising him with a hug hadn’t been the best idea before. 

“L-Loki? Is… is everything okay? Did something happen? If it’s about what happened... it-it’s okay. You weren’t in your right mind. I know you, I know you’re not like that: you’re so good to me! It’s just one time. It won’t happen again. I forgive you,” you smile at his back kindly, and take a step forward when he doesn’t respond. A step after another, set to the tune of “scritch scritch scritch”. “Loki, I’m going to hug you now, if that’s okay.” 

You reach up with a quivering hand to tap his shoulder, having to step closer in the process, and what you see makes you stumble. 

He’s not cleaning the dishes. 

Loki is using the steel wool you use to clean the pans on… on his left hand. It’s shredded, horribly shredded: blood coats the sink and his arm, slowly going down the drain mixed with the running water. The scritch noise was… was his bones in his hands against the wool. His body shakes as you gasp, horrified. 

“Oh my god, what are you- what are you  _ doing,  _ Loki, stop,” you sob, reaching forwards to pull the wool out of his hand. Your action is halted by the sudden clamping of his right hand on your wrist, the wool landing in the sink: it holds you steadfast and still with his much superior strength. His head turns to yours, and you can’t help but whimper at the emotions in his teary eyes. 

Despair. 

Hopelessness. 

Pain. 

And most worryingly…

Fear. Palpable, incredible, fear in those green eyes: they swirl dangerously with blue in a battle that you can’t help but feel terrified of. Loki whines like a scared child, his eyes wide as he clearly struggles to let go of your hand. 

“Loki, let’s just calm down now, we need- we need to get you to a hospital,” you cry, gently removing your hand from his grip as it laxes just a bit. Loki shakes his head slightly, all he can muster. 

His mouth moves, and no words come out. You watch patiently with shaking shoulders as he battles with himself to get the words out. When they finally come, garbled and quiet and painful to hear, it’s not affirmation or an apology or a declaration of love. It’s… 

“ _ Run. Please _ .”

You stagger backward in shock. 

“But… but I love you, we can do this-” 

He shakes his head, an “I’m sorry” being mouthed, and then his face distorts in pain. His bloody hand constricts around itself, shaking. 

“Run, now! Never return,  _ ever _ ,” he growls. 

You glance at his wrecked hand, then back at Loki’s tearful eyes, and then at his pained expression. He… he isn’t right. Something is happening to him, and you are not the one who can fix it. You cannot help him here. You know that, but you have a connection to him, you’re in love- 

“I’ve never loved you. I’m… I’m so sorry- I think that with time and in different circumstances I could’ve but… ngk- you have to leave, before it’s too late. Go as far away as you can, quickly as you can. Things are coming, and you… you are but a mere foolish girl who loves too easily. You do not deserve the fate that the others will experience,” he grits out. 

Your heart shatters. 

Every snuggle on the couch, every peck over cooking eggs, every “I love you”. Months of your life, months spent in  _ love,  _ months with who you though yourself undeserving of and  _ how goddamn amazing  _ it is that you’re with him and  _ he loves you  _ and you wanted to spend your life with him oh god- 

“Oh god,” you cry, tears spilling in great numbers, “I- Fuck! I can’t believe this, I-I I thought-” 

“ _ Leave,”  _ Loki demands, a now all too familiar malice creeping into his tone, and you trip over your feet grabbing your coat and phone and wallet before leaving for good. Something is terribly wrong with this man, and you can’t help him. You don’t  _ want  _ to help him at this point, with all his lies and manipulations. 

You leave alone. 

You leave mourning the loss of months of your life. 

You leave brokenhearted. 

~~~

And there’s something about watching Loki decimate the city you love on the television a few weeks later, in a new town with a new job and a new home, that makes you feel as though broken dreams and departed love will never ever allow you to have peace of mind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, questions, concerns! 
> 
> And please, feel free to chat on Tumblr! I'm always around. @lehuka123.


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